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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094713">At last</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblesyoh/pseuds/Bubblesyoh'>Bubblesyoh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>More than enough [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Climate Change, Crying, Global Warming, Hugs, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Reunions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:35:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblesyoh/pseuds/Bubblesyoh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael shakes his head, his curly damp hair obscuring his vision and he finally lurches forward, Alex's name a plea on his lips.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>More than enough [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817467</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At last</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>His breath comes out in short, desperate gasps when he rests his forehead against the wood. His clothing was soaked and clinging to his form and even with the rain falling hard, the soil below was dry, chunks of dying yellow grass were one of the many remnants of the radical temperature oscillations.</p><p> </p><p>Max called it the <em>slow decaying of civilization,</em> Isobel agreed and said it was <em>a gradual process</em>. Michael called it <em>preventable</em>. What more could the human race do if not adapt? With their so many insurgents, terrorists, radicals, as the government called them. Alex would always scoff at it, <em>survivors</em>, was what he would say instead.</p><p> </p><p>There had been sorrow in the silence that followed him around, from the way his stomach rumbled in agony, to how his shoes pushed against the ground, or maybe it was the way he grit his teeth and made do. In the four months since they lost each other, Michael had seen shit he never thought he would. There is something in the air, the visceral disintegration of his surroundings, the slow death of humankind.</p><p> </p><p>He knocks his head on the door, one, two, three times. Is this what it feels like to have a home? There is a loud bark, and a few seconds later the door swings open. "Hands where I can see them," a familiar voice growls and Michael freezes.</p><p> </p><p>He can't say a word, can't force even one syllable past his lips, because Alex is right there in front of him and Michael can see the moment his eyes go wide in shock and the gun in his hand drops to the floor. Michael shakes his head, his curly damp hair obscuring his vision, and he finally lurches forward, Alex's names a plea on his lips. He makes a choking sound when Alex squeezes him tight, as if afraid Michael will vanish before his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Alex," he breathes into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Alex seems desperate to make sure he is real, he brings his hands up to Michael's face, palms warm and rough, thumbs caressing his cheeks. Michael slips his fingers under his hoodie to keep Alex against him, imploring him to not let go. They kiss and the relief that blooms in Michael's chest is so sharp that he can hardly breathe. He gently pushes Alex away, takes in several breaths, releases them, and tries to find words, but none seem to come.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly there are tears everywhere, Michael doesn't know who shed the first, but he also doesn’t find it in him to care, not with Alex sobbing in his shoulder and shaking in his arms. "I'm fine," he manages to blurt, and it is a feeble attempt at comfort, but Alex lets out an amused snort.</p><p> </p><p>"You are not fine," Alex says, a tone of hysteria slipping out of his mouth, his forehead resting against Michael's, a wet, barely-there smile on his lips. "But you are here and that is more than enough."</p><p><br/> <br/><em>And at last, Michael feels at home.</em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had fun writing this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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